Rest Your Head
by KayLyn666
Summary: After Jo-Anna Beth Randle died in a car accident in 1972, leaving Steve with a newborn daughter, he and the gang were forced to overcome many challenges. The next fifteen years were far from easy, but somehow, they made it through. Sequel to "Ain't so Easy" and "Ain't Over Till It's Over".
1. Prologue

**Rest Your Head**

_Summery - After Jo-Anna Beth Randle died in a car accident in 1972, leaving Steve with a newborn daughter, he and the gang were forced to overcome many challenges. The next fifteen years were far from easy, but somehow, they made it through. Sequel to "Ain't so Easy" and "Ain't Over Till It's Over". _

_Authors Note - I know I said I'd never continue to story, but I decided, why not? If you read the two earlier stories, you know exactly what's gone on already. If you haven't, it might do you some good to do so! This story will be flashing between past and present quite frequently, however, most of the story takes place in the past (So from 1972 to 1987.) It will follow Steve through the early years of parenthood, Michelle's attitude change as she grew, and the rest of the gang's outlook on life. The more reviews I receive, the more likely to continue I'll be!_

* * *

**Prologue**

_"Nature's first green is gold,  
Her hardest hue to hold.  
Her early leaf's a flower;  
But only so an hour.  
Then leaf subsides to leaf.  
So Eden sank to grief,  
So dawn goes down to day.  
Nothing gold can stay." _

_- "Nothing Gold Can Stay" - Robert Frost_

**April 13th, 1972**

"Steve, slow down," Soda pleaded from the passenger seat where he watched the trees and houses whip by. Steve's knuckles were turning white from gripping the steering wheel with so much force. He narrowly hit the break in time to avoid a garbage truck pulling off the curb. "Steve!"

"They said it's bad, Soda, they said it's real bad," he hissed, tears in his eyes as he swerved around the truck, breaking several speed laws as he charged down the street towards the hospital. Only minutes before they had received a call that would change their lives forever. Jo-Anna had been in a head on collision just a few miles out of town on her way back from picking up her wedding gift from her aunts and uncles in Kansas. Mary, Jo-Anna's younger sister and Ponyboy's very pregnant wife, was killed in the collision instantly, her unborn child along with her.

"I can't slow down," Steve whispered. He was shaking something awful and started to cross the yellow lines. That was when Soda decided to coax him over to the side of the road, where the two changed seats. Once in the driver's seat, Soda hit the gas, making it to the hospital in record time, without the recklessness of his best friend.

Steve paid little attention to the cars that belonged to the members of the gang as he flew through the hospital doors, straight into the emergency room. He waited impatiently in line before reaching the nurses station, where a nurse that he later realized knew him and his family well, directed him to have a seat in the waiting area.

"Your wife was rushed into surgery," she explained once the entire gang was assembled in the small waiting area that was otherwise vacant at such an early hour. "The doctors are performing an emergency Cesarian Section in hopes of saving your unborn child," she continued. "Your wife experienced quite a number of injuries in the collision, the most severe of those being a crushed skull and multiple internal bleeds," she explained grimly. "The doctor will be out any moment to explain in detail what this means for you and your family."

The wait seemed to take hours. Even after the fuzz showed and explained to Darry, the only person level headed enough to hear him out, explained that the driver of the other car had been drunk and was speeding in the wrong lane when he collided with Jo-Anna, head on. Jo's car had been totaled, where as the other man made it out of the crash with barely a scratch on his body. A soc. A rich kid looking to blow off some steam. Darry was furious, as was every member of the gang.

Ponyboy was crying softly into Soda's shoulder, his hands holding the small gold chain that held his wife's wedding rings. The police had given it to him as soon as they identified the body. Soda was whispering sweet nothing's to Pony, in a futile attempt to calm him down.

Two-Bit looked ready to puke. His face was pale, his eyes clouded as he stared at nothing in particular. Darry was pacing the back wall, muttering to himself angrily.

Michelle, Mary and Jo's baby sister, was looking on with tearfilled eyes, her face pale, her expression grim as she clutched the stuffed animal that had been passed down from girl to girl over the years.

And Steve, well Steve felt like his life had ended the moment he got the call. He had seen death over and over in his short lifetime, having lost two of his friends at an early age, then going on to lose so many brothers in arms during his time in Vietnam, and now...he wasn't entirely sure if he could come back from this.

It seemed like hours later when the doctor finally came out. He sat the entire family down, knowing from experience just how close the family really was. He went on to tell them how sorry he was. How there was nothing he could do to save Jo. How her injuries were just simply too severe for any doctor to fix. And then he looked at Steve with sad eyes and said, his tone that of a man who had witnessed far too much loss in his career; "Would you care to meet your daughter?"

The words stunned every member of the group. Despite the odds, despite the accident and all the complications, Jo-Anna and Steve's unborn child had survived. A little girl. A daughter.

"Yes," Steve managed to whisper as he got to his feet, his entire body trembling.

The doctor led the way to the NICU, where Steve got to hold his daughter for the first time. The tiny newborn weighed only 5 pounds, her bright blue eyes reminding Steve so much of Jo's. He looked at the tiny bundle in his arms before turning to the nurse who was watching with a patient, yet troubled look.

"Bethany Joanna," he said simply as he kissed the tiny bundle's nose. "After her mother. Bethany Joanna Randle."

The nurse scribbled the name on the wristband before securing it to the infant's foot. Steve wanted to be happy. He wanted to be proud and to be the best father he could ever be to the tiny bundle, but deep in his heart, he knew he'd failed already. He failed to keep his daughter's mother safe. He failed to keep her alive. He failed to protect her. It should have been him. It should have been anyone else. Not her. Not Jo-Anna who had fought so hard to keep their family together. Not the woman who loved endlessly. Who knew just the right thing to say. Who knew how to brighten a room with her kind words. Not her.

* * *

**1 year later...**

"I miss her," he whispered as his fingers gingerly traced over the photographs that lined the mantle. "I miss her so much."

"I know, Steve," Soda said softly as he rocked his nephew, Shaynne in his arms. Shaynne was born just under a year after Bethany was, to a woman that Darry had only known for a few days before they hooked up. The sorry excuse of a woman left the moment Shaynne was born, leaving Darry to raise their son on his own. Darry, who had raised his brothers from the time their parents died until they were adult, was working endlessly to provide for his son, long hours, weekends, holidays. Soda had taken up being a babysitter, regardless of how often Darry told him not to.

"It's just not fair, man," he whispered.

"I know."

"I miss her too, you know," Michelle said sadly where she held Bethany in her arms. Since the passing of her sisters, Michelle had taken to Beth almost immediately, loving and cherishing every moment with the small child. Michelle was the mother Beth would never know in so many ways. And for that, Steve was grateful. At just ten years old, Michelle had stepped up to bat and was willing to help wherever necessary.

She paced the room, Beth hitched on her hip as she walked over to the ancient bookshelf that now held all the family albums. She gingerly reached for the pale pink one, Beth's babybook and pulled it from the shelf, carefully carrying it and the infant over to the couch where she sat down, shifting Beth so she was leaning against her stomach.

"Look Bethy, it's mama," she said softly as she opened the book, pointing at the first photo, an old, tattered one from when Jo had been about Michelle's age. "Mama loved so very, very much," she cooed, kissing the top of the baby's head. "Look, this is when you were still in mama's tummy," she went on, flipping through the pages, like she did almost every morning. If nothing else, the entire family hoped that Bethany would grow up knowing her mother, if only through the stories they shared with her.

* * *

**April 13th, 1987**

From the stories everyone told when I was growing up, my mother was a wise woman, who loved unconditionally. She was the first one to a rumble and the last one to leave the party. She was eager to please and always willing to lend a hand to a friend in need. She was one of the guys in so many ways,

My mother died on my birthday, fifteen years ago, today. She left behind not only me, but a husband who loved her to pieces, a family who missed her dearly and most of all, she left behind a legacy. Her death sparked a war that ultimately ended all wars between Greasers and Socs. Her death led to a movement. Led to a change.

As I sat beside her headstone, tears in my eyes, I found myself wondering how my father ever made it through the last fifteen years, raising a daughter on his own. How he managed to juggle work and graduating and everything else. But somehow he did.

I felt a heavy set of hands fall on my shoulders. When I glanced up, I saw the sad blue eyes of my father looking down on me. He forced a sad smile before looking up at the sky, his words barely a whisper when he said "I think you're old enough to know it all now."

And with that, I learned the story of how my father, how our family, made it through the last fifteen years without falling apart.


	2. Chapter 1 - The First Year

**Chapter 1 **

**The First Year**

"_Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children." _

_- William Makepeace Thackeray_

* * *

**The First Year...**

The loud wail of a newborn echoed off every wall. For what felt like the millionth time that night, Steve was forced to roll off the couch in the Curtis living room and pad over to the small bassinet that served as Bethany's crib. He groaned as he reached down and picked the fussy newborn up.

"What's wrong?" he asked the tiny child, rocking her in his arms. She fussed and fussed and for the millionth time, Steve couldn't help but wish Jo-Anna or Mary were still alive. They were so good with babies. Steve, on the other hand, had no idea what he was doing.

"Stop crying, please," he begged in an exhausted tone. The baby just kept on crying.

"Need a hand?" Darry asked tiredly, having been woken by the child's wails. Darry, who had little experience with babies himself, seemed to be one of the few people who could quiet the child.

"Please," Steve nodded. He handed the newborn to Darry, who began pacing the room, rocking her gently back and forth while whispering sweet nothing's to her. Eventually she calmed down enough to be rocked back to sleep, much to Steve's relief.

"How long 'fore she sleeps through the night?" he mused, not really expecting an answer.

"Maybe a month, maybe six," Darry said, remembering back to when Ponyboy was born. "Some babies are good sleepers, some aren't."

"Great," Steve muttered.

"You'll see, you'll be able to get her to fall asleep in no time," he reassured Steve, who had a look of defeat on his face. "Why don't you crash in my room? I'll get up if she cries again."

"Aw, man, I can't ask ya to do that," Steve said tiredly. She was his kid. His responsibility. He wasn't gonna be like his ol' man and pawn her off on anyone that'd watch her.

"You need sleep too, Steve. It's been a week and you've been up more than any of us," Darry said knowingly. "Besides, Meg should be here real early to take the girls off our hands for a while," he added. Meg was his new girlfriend, a real pretty thing with bleach blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was middle class at best, but never once looked down on us so she was alright. She was going to take Michelle and Bethany out to the country for the weekend, since the we and the Socs had some 'talking' to do that Saturday.

"Still man," Steve said, his tone that of a broken man. "She's my kid, I got 'er."

"Steve, I know what you're tryin' to do, and trust me, take the offer," Darry said, a hint of authority in his voice. Steve finally nodded and padded down the hall, his socked feet making light thuds against the old floorboards.

Darry laid on the couch, the tiny infant on his chest, much like he'd done the few times he managed to convince Steve to sleep or shower or eat. Bethany cuddled into his chest, her lips puckered as she slept peacefully.

A soft footfall caught Darry's attention a few minutes later. He glanced in the general direction of the noise to see a very disheveled looking Michelle rubbing her eyes tiredly.

"Have I ever mentioned I never want kids?" she muttered as she passed Darry on her way to the kitchen. The light over the sink flicked on as she started doing the dishes from the night before. Darry looked at the old grandfather clock across the room. Just after four in the morning. Michelle had school in the morning and Darry knew he should scold her for being awake, but in the same breath, he didn't have the heart to do so. Michelle was taking the loss of her sisters harder than anyone had imagined and he found it amazing she was even functioning, much less begging to go back to school so soon. It had only been a week since the accident. He remembered back to losing his parents and how it took almost a month to get both Soda and Pony back to their usual selves, or at least close to it.

"What's with all the noise?" a sleepy voice asked. Darry turned his eyes away from the kitchen to see Soda walking up behind him, a shit eating grin on his face.

"Did Beth wake Pony?" Darry asked, a hint of concern in his voice. After losing Mary, Ponyboy had nightmares all over again, these ones, however, he could remember. Pony was taking this loss a lot harder than anyone.

"No," Soda said softly. He reached over and scooped Beth off Darry's lap, cradling her in his arms. "This little angel," he cooed softly. "Didn't wake anyone except maybe you and Mickey," he said with a grin. "Mickey woke me up when she tripped over the pile of clothes on our floor."

Michelle had taken the spare bed in the room Ponyboy and Soda once again shared. She couldn't stand the thought of sleeping in her own room just yet. No one had been in the house behind the Curtis home since the accident, except the first morning to retrieve clothes for Michelle and Steve. It was too hard. There were way too many memories.

"Try to coax her back to bed," Darry said softly as Soda laid the sleeping baby in her bassinet. Soda nodded and quietly walked into the kitchen where he exchanged a few words with Michelle before pushing her back towards their room. Darry couldn't help but smile. Soda had a way with people, that was for sure.

Without much else to do, Darry managed to catch a few more hours of sleep before Beth started fussing around six. Darry had to be up anyway, so by then, he wasn't too upset about having to change a diaper at the crack of dawn.

* * *

I felt my eyes water as my dad told me everything. My hand reached for the thin gold chain that held my mother's wedding rings. They had been a gift from my dad when I turned thirteen. It seemed impossible to believe that I would never meet her. I would never be able to share the important memories with her. I would never know what her voice sounded like or what her hugs felt like. I wanted to cry, but for my father's sake, I didn't. I learned early on that whenever I cried, it hurt him more than I could ever understand.

"You have her eyes," my dad said softly as he planted a kiss on the top of my head, much like he did when I was a child. "You have her smile too. And her voice. When you sing, you bring life into the hearts of anyone listening."

"Really?" I asked, my eyes widening. "What did she used to sing?"

"Your mom used to sing the most special songs," he said, his tone sad, a faraway look in his eyes. "She always found a song to fit the moment..."


	3. Chapter 2 - Changes

**Chapter 2**

**Changes**

"'Cause we have had enough  
All the violence has touched every part of our lives"

- Papa Roach "Had Enough"

* * *

As the gang gathered in the living room, the tone for the night was apparent. Darry, being the oldest of the group, well into his mid twenties, looked exhausted as he looked at the faces of his friends. Soda was just shy of 24, Steve having turned 24 a few months prior. The same went for Two-Bit who looked ready to kick back and throw down a cold one. Pony looked bitter, but the fire just didn't reach his eyes at 20. Michelle was the only one who truly looked as angry as any of them ever did before a rumble.

"I can't believe this is it," Soda said to Steve as the two helped Meg gather the younger kids belongings for their weekend trip. "It's been a long time coming."

"Finally, a real talk," Steve agreed. He knew what it looked like. They were all well into their twenties. The time for rumbles and fists solving their problems had long since passed. But Steve couldn't help but be bitter. He couldn't help but want justice for the lives lost that fateful day. But beating some kid to a pulp wouldn't solve it.

Hours after Meg picked up Shaynne, Bethany and Michelle, the gang filed out of the living room, down to the lot. Much to their surprise, it seemed the entire town had showed up. Steve caught sight of Tim Shepard, who took Jo's death surprisingly hard when he got news. The old folks from the diner she used to work at showed up, as did many people from all over town.

But there he was. The kid who killed Beth's mother. He looked no more than seventeen, clearly terrified. Steve had heard from the district attorney that his folks had bailed him out the first night, but he would be sentenced for vehicular manslaughter later that month. This was exactly why they were doing this now.

"Steve," the kid called, his tone shaking as he looked at the man before him. He knew if this went south, he'd be just as dead as Jo and Mary were.

"Johnathon," Steve nodded, stepping in front of the gang, his family, giving the kid a once over. The kid looked terrified, like his entire world had just fallen apart. And maybe it had. You don't just walk away from an accident like that without any scars. Not even Dallas Winston could have managed that.

"I know it ain't much, but I'm sorry," the kid called. Steve motioned John over to the cars, where people watched in awe at the calmness of the entire situation. Despite their ages, some believed the fighting would never cease. And maybe for some it wouldn't. Tim still got hauled in for fighting every now and then. And he was far too old for it. But the others, they all grew up along the way.

Steve and John leaned against Darry's ancient looking truck, a weed shared between them as they looked out at the group.

"I know I'll never be able to make it right," the kid said sadly, tears streaming down his face. "But ya gotta know, I didn't mean to."

"I know," Steve said, surprising himself and everyone who could hear their conversation. "That's why we're here."

"I'm looking at hard time, man," John went on, his voice trembling. "I ain't even seen the car, they came outta no where, I swear."

"You killed my wife," Steve said though there was no anger in his voice. "You killed my wife and her sister and her sister's unborn child."

"I know," the kid sobbed. "And I can't ever take that back. I can't never make that right."

"You can't change the past, but you can certainly change the future," Steve said calmly, looking up at the stars that could barely be seen against the city lights. "You can promise me here and now that you won't never lay a hand on a Greaser just because of their social status. You can promise me you'll never drink and drive again. You can promise me you'll do something with your life, kid."

"And that'll make it better?" John asked him, cocking an eyebrow.

"No, but it'll give me closure," Steve said a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Kid, the world's changing. This ain't just about money no more. I've seen kids I grew up with shot for drugs. Shoot, not so long ago, I had to watch my best buddy struggle with addiction. His dealer was dead a month after he got clean. The world's not as simple as it was when I was a kid. So do something good with the life you've got, ya hear? Never know, you could change it for everyone."

It didn't seem like much, but months later, word reached Steve that the Greaser/Soc fighting seemed to have ceased in their part of Tulsa. Weather because that one kid did something to make a difference, or because the world was just changing, Steve would never know, but regardless, he was grateful. The feud was finally over and people were finally getting along, least for the most part.

In a perfect world, that would have made the family happy. Knowing that Michelle and Bethany and Shaynne would never need to go through what they went through as kids. That they'd be able to walk down the street without fear. But as the gangs dissolved, new problems aroused. But those problems could wait for another day.

* * *

"So in a way, mom's death meant something," I asked as I looked up at my father, who still had the faraway look in his eyes. "Her death made a difference."

"I like to think so," he nodded. "But in the same, it could have just been dumb luck and good timing. But I like to think if nothing else, that kid, John, learned the cost of a good time and went on to do something good with his life," he added.

"Do you ever miss it?" I asked, wondering if he missed the fighting. Keith swore he didn't, same with Darry, Soda and Pony. But my dad had always been different. Michelle told me the stories from way back when more times than I cared to remember.

"Not at all," he said with a smile. "It's nice knowing you and Shaynne, Sprite and Missy will never need to go through what we did growing up. But y'all are going to have problems of your own to face, that much hasn't changed. It never will.

"But we'll never have to face the Greaser/Soc problems," I nodded, smiling at the thought because my boyfriend, Sean, was from an upperclass family and her folks liked me just fine. The money situation was hardly ever an issue for us, even though his older brother sometimes liked to try and throw it in my face that I'd never be able to afford the pretty dresses his girlfriend could. Quite frankly, that was the least of my worries. I was satisfied with what I had and all my father and family had been able to give me growing up, and Sean never loved me any less for my short comings, much less my inability to dress in the latest, most outrageous styles. I couldn't help but wonder if it had anything to do with that fateful night almost fifteen years ago. Maybe in a way, it did.

* * *

**A/N - I tried to make the whole "Talk" seem a bit more meaningful, without emotions clouding Steve's judgement. In a sense, it's definitely dramatized and would likely never happen in real life, but hey, that's the whole idea with writing. :) I wanted to show in a sense, how the gang scene began to change shortly following the accident.**

**Reviews are always appreciated. Love it? Hate it? I wanna hear from you! **


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